i need gbgb taehyun in a biblical sense. need him in a damning my soul to hell sense. need him in a way thats concerning, not just to feminism, but overall. just generally concerning.
Look sometimes you work your little eight hour day at an internship and they ask you to make an interactive graphic about a very specific thing and you're fighting for your life because someone just implied they need your help writing code in Python tomorrow and then you get online and forget that amber is just cool tree resin. And you write a run-on sentence about it.
For the wip game: can I hear about "Danger Pretty" please?? 😗
[ ask about my WIPs ]
This is a fic series that is so self-indulgent, it's unreal. 😂 Danger Pretty centers around the alternate start of Vikt where he becomes a club dancer instead of a mercenary after his termination from Arasaka. During his time at Empathy, he meets Kerry, and it is a partnership that gradually teaches Vikt what it means to have something genuine—a rarity in this verse.
SNIPPET:
Behind him, the door locks. The heavy bass of the music is muted in here, but that just… adds to it, really. Smoke wafts in the air, a backdrop for the cedarwood cologne and natural musk—an intoxicating combination, Kerry is quickly learning. Some of the plumes are fresh from the man waiting for him, sitting there on the sofa with his legs crossed at the knee, the perched foot idly bouncing to the faint beat. His makeup is pebbled and runny from sweat. A cigarette hangs from his lips, its cherry reflected in those hard eyes.
He takes a long drag but doesn’t move otherwise. “You’re becoming quite a regular.” The words sound like they’re being dragged through gravel, but it makes Kerry’s stomach damn near leap in his throat. It’s a voice that gives away that this man is far from a gonk; he’s seen shit, been through shit. Weathered, haggard.
And fuck, why is it so fuckin’ attractive?
“Eh, well,” Kerry tries to laugh—and not nervously, “keeps me from getting bored, I guess.”
“A man such as you, getting bored? I find it hard to believe.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” He tries to inject some venom in there, but Kerry can tell it falls flat. That or this man isn’t much phased by anything.
He simply takes another drag. “Means I don’t believe that Kerry Eurodyne doesn’t have anything better to do than come to a braindance club by himself. Wanted to get your rocks off, you could’ve simply stayed in your personal palace.”
“You just invite me here to make this a big deal? Or do you actually have some point to make?” Kerry lets his tone dip into a growl. “If you do, I’d suggest starting to make it.”
The man’s propped leg slowly falls, his knees easing apart. Those eyes are scrutinizing—Kerry can fuckin’ feel them on him. It doesn’t much help the fire raging across his cheeks as he ogles at just how voluptuous those thighs look in that tight leather, their curves not at all left to imagination. A hand slowly wanders their insides; the fucker knows. And he so casually answers, “I’m simply curious why you’d risk coming here. Risk being plastered all over the screamsheets. You must have a reason… and I want to know what it is.”
“And it matters to you because…?”
“Call it a hunch, but…” He huffs the smoke one last time, tossing the butt somewhere, swirls curling out of his nostrils. Then, he stands—or more accurately, towers. Kerry’s stuck there, unable to move. Not even as the man starts yanking shit off. The hat’s first, then the sunglasses… and just like that, Kerry Eurodyne is exposed fully.
And, y’know… he can’t bring himself to care.
“Something tells me… I’m your reason.”
“Sounds like your ego talkin’.” That earns a tiny smirk.
